It’s Tet (Lunar New Year) days in Vietnam, and I’m here, in the 3rd floor lobby of Earlham Hall, swimming among heaps of class notes, curling myself into a yellow blanket, watching “A City of Sadness.” Outside, it has stopped snowing. The traces left by people riding bikes created intersecting lines on the grass. From the 3rd floor window, it looks like a map.
Of winter.
It’s not cold at home as it should be. My hometown doesn’t have winter this year, and probably won't for the following years. Global warming is here – you can feel it – even in Richmond, Indiana. Winter was postponed for so long that I was overexcited when the first shower of snow froze my ears and whitened my bike. Things should follow their natural course.
What is natural?
These days, my mind is full of thoughts. Not necessarily disturbing thoughts. There’s a sense of peacefulness resulting from being able to immerse myself in the intellectual pursuit again. Continuous discussions about Nitsche, trade, economic inequality, social mindscapes, history, pentatonic scale, among others, fill me with endless joy, excitement, and inner peace. But how long will this last?
This is not natural.
As I’m lying here watching the movie, I can’t help thinking how hard my parents have to work to afford my education here. I must make the investment worthwhile. For them, and for myself.
My newspaper article will be published next month in Vietnam Week – Vietnamnet. I have been thinking more seriously about the lifelong devotion as a writer. My next project is in the nascent stage. I hope to have more articles released this year, and soon, a book. Probably that’s what I’m most capable of: incorporating all opinions and phenomena, trying to come up with a just and profound evaluation, and living a life of serenity with occasional adventures.
But even this simple aspiration is not easy. I must fight for it. It’s a fight with myself. You actualize the lifestyle you desire or will fall to a lower level when the time for change comes. Every reality is only temporary. Both blessing and mishap have their origins in things you do not fully understand.
Probably I am feeling guilty. I planned to work on the project from yesterday, but ended up watching multiple video clips. Still, I’m glad I’m watching this movie. Probably these are moments for things like this.
I have much to say about 悲情城市 (A City of Sadness). Since watching Tokyo Story and Maboroshi, I have cultivated an appreciation for movies like this: those that present life in its natural pace, without too much dramatization or even verbal communication. Life itself is complicated and beautiful enough.
I was supposed to watch this film in Modern China class last year, but I was too silly to appreciate it at the time. This year, when reading some autobiographies about the Japanese rule in Korea and Taiwan, I realized it’s time to revisit it.
I was born very individualistic, but recently, I have been inclined towards the Eastern philosophy of the circular time more. History essentially consists of a few stories rewritten with different materials.
The change is like a wave approaching us. How can we resist? Even the deaf man finally gets arrested. I remember what Natsume Sōseki wrote in I am A Cat: in times like this, you had better get mad; if you are too conscious of the situation, you will die. The sole survivor of the family is the second brother, who actually becomes crazy.
All the establishments that have stayed long enough must have transformed itself substantially multiple times. Once it falls off the tide and loses its spirit, it will die even when it’s still living.
How can I make sense of my time? Which is the calling I should follow? Will I forever stay a girl at the window, observing things “down there,” then the sky afar, and write down some notes in silence?
For reference:
Films:
Lust, Caution
Legend of the Rainbow Warriors & Kano
The Three-Inch Golden Lotus: A Novel on Foot Binding
